Calcium Deficiency
by PADavis
Summary: Kazcon Auction Fic for Nana56. A bus, a hunt, and a hungry spirit. And police. Set immediately after S2 Playthings. Rated T for language.
1. Bells and Whistles

For the patient, lovely, forgiving, patient, generous—did I say patient?—Nana56 who won a fic from me lo these many many many months ago at Kazcon. The Kazcon auction raised money for the American Cancer Society and was donated in the memory of Kim Manners. I started out bravely enough and then got stuck. RL was a nasty piece of work. I got advice - thanks K Hanna! I wrote some more.

I wrote other things and Nana56 waited, patiently, and reviewed, and was thoroughly charming. This didn't make me feel better, instead it convinced me I was pond scum.

So - HEREWITH, on the two years and one day anniversary of posting the first chapter of my first fan fic ever, the first chapter of Nana56's AUCTION FIC. Please look for the second chapter in one short week. The third and final chapter one week after that.

My thanks to Merisha and Scotia for their beta. They did their best. All remaining errors are mine.

* * *

Dean was trolling local obituaries on the internet before they left Connecticut and the Pierpont Inn far behind them. One eyebrow quirked up when he found a reference to 'another Atlantic City' death. Another? Atlantic City?

By the time Sam got back with dinner, Dean had a dozen windows open on the laptop and several pages of notes. Sam's eyebrows almost disappeared into his hair line. "What's this? I thought you were allergic to research."

"Allergic? No, I just don't get a hard on from it. That's your perversion, Francis." He pushed a couple of books toward his brother. "Here. Your Viagra prescription."

Sam brushed the books to one side and unpacked the bags. "Got Boston Market."

"Oooh, chicken pot pie? Gimme." Dean leaned forward for the container just as Sam lifted it out of his reach.

"Wanna talk about perversion? You gonna take this into the bathroom like the last time?"

Dean felt himself turning red. "That was just to keep it safe from the human vacuum."

"Says the human vacuum." Sam dropped the container on the table. "This is a G-rated meal."

Dean watched his brother as he set up his own meal. "Fair enough. But that means the sweet potato thing stays on top of the table. No '_American Pie'_ moments from you."

Sam just grinned through a huge orange mouthful of potato, streusel, and mini marshmallows. "So what did you find?"

Spinning the laptop toward Sam, Dean walked him through obituaries, police reports, and newspaper articles. "Three women so far, early sixties, DOA at Caesar's Palace." He took a moment to break the crust and let steam waft out before flipping through his notes. "Fine before they got on the bus. Fine on the bus. Step off, blammo, dead." He poked a spork into the pie, methodically removed the peas, and took a big bite of steaming hot chicken. Breathing through his mouth, he pointed at one screen.

Sam scanned the page and several other pages as he ate. Finally, he said, "Cause of death?"

"The coroner's reports are sealed. Sounds like our kind of gig." Dean always left the browned edges of the pot pie's crust for last. He used a piece of it to point at the screen. "All three women used the same tour bus company. The only part of the route they have in common is from here", pointing at the map, "Woodbury to Atlantic City. "The latest vic lived in Allentown. We can drive there tonight, miss the worst of the traffic. Take about three hours tops. Be at the morgue when they open."

"Oh joy." Sam took a bite of creamed corn.

"Why do you always order the corn? Take one of those pills, man, or something. I am not spending four hours in the car with your gas."

"You'll forgive me when I crack the coroner's reports."

"Or I could just tie you onto the roof of the car. Seriously, take something."

* * *

Carol held the phone to her ear, shifting her eyes from the door to the bus station, to the bus, to the busy street, and back, counting the rings. He finally answered.

"Allan! When are you going to get here?"

"_I don't know. The bridge is still up."_

"Can't the cab turn around and take another way?"

He laughed. _"No, he sure can't. There's two miles of cars backed up behind us. No one's going anywhere."_

"Well, then, I'll wait for you. We can take my car. I don't want you to miss the audition."

"_Oh, no, don't do that. You take the bus with your friends, and I'll catch the next one in a couple of hours. The audition is tomorrow—I have plenty of time." _

"They were all looking forward to meeting you. I've been talking you up, kid. My grand nephew, the dancer."

"_You tell 'em what kind of dancer, grand-auntie?"_

"Of course I did. They aren't yokels. We've all seen drag shows." She saw movement at the station door. "I think our driver is coming out. Unless you're moving, I'm going to… Oh."

"_Carol, what? Do what?"_

"If you know what's good for you, you'll get out of that cab, jump the drawbridge, and run to the station as fast as your legs will go."

_"Oh, god, what am I missing?"_

"Eye candy. The driver can't dress himself, but honey, he's gorgeous. And there's another guy, and oh my god, Allan, you have to get here just to see him put the luggage in the hold. He's bending over…" She felt her jaw drop and heard Allan hoot with laughter.

"_I _knew_ you were a cougar. I just knew it. Take pictures."_

"Oh, we are, we are. I'll get your bag on board and see you at the hotel. You have the reservation confirmation number?"

"_I'm fine. Just wish I could see these paragons in person."_

"You'll kick yourself when you see the pictures. Call and let me know when you'll arrive, okay, hon?"

"_Go get 'em, girl."_

* * *

The drive to Allentown was unremarkable. Dean didn't tie him to the car like a trophy buck, they found and checked into a clean motel, got a couple of hours sleep and found a good coffee shop in the morning.

What was remarkable was the cause of death. As they put on their suits and got in the car, Sam shared it with his brother.

"The hell? Their bones were gone? How can bones be '_gone'_."

"Not the whole bone, just the part that makes it rigid. The marrow, endosteum and periosteum, and some cartilage were still in place and seemed untouched." Sam juggled his coffee and flipped through the autopsy reports. "'An inexplicable absence of mineralized osseous tissue.' Once that was removed…"

"They turned into what? A puddle?"

"More like a big pile of shapeshifter skin."

"Gross. So, they stepped off the bus and, what, dissolved?" To Sam's horror, Dean sounded almost excited. "Wasn't there an _X Files_ episode like that? A fluke or something?"

"No, there wasn't."

"There was this boneless guy moving through the sewers. Maybe it's like that."

"No, it's not."

"It could be. It slithers up, sucks out the bones, slurps back…" Dean hit the steering wheel making Sam jump. "This is awesome."

"No, it isn't. Those women died horribly." A thought struck him. "Besides, how could no one notice it in front of a casino. And how could a fluke have gotten on the bus? Climb the steps. Someone would have noticed a giant leech with a human face oozing onto a seat." When Dean didn't reply, Sam glanced over and was treated to a full on smirk.

"I knew you'd try to rationalize that, Braniac." Dean's next grin was sly. "Maybe it's more like Mrs. Peacock. She drags herself up the steps on her elbows, thump, thump…"

"Dude, stop! That episode scarred me for life." Sam pitched his voice to a falsetto. "'I kin _tell_ you don't have no chil'ren.'"

"That was the most awesome episode ever."

"Back to real life, you freak. We still don't know what took the bones. Or how."

"That's a job for CDC Investigators Malcolm and Young. There's the morgue. Start looking official."

They looked official all the way into the morgue, through the interview, right up until the coroner unveiled the body. Sam turned green and bolted for the bathroom. When he was done, he rinsed his mouth over and over, then slid down to sit on the floor. Leaning his head back on the tile wall, he swore he was never eating raw oysters again, or jello, or eels, and god, he had to stop _thinking_ about it or he'd start barfing again. This was reinforced in no uncertain terms a few minutes later when Dean barged in, slammed open a stall door, and puked for a solid minute.

Dragging himself to the sinks, Dean hawked up some yellowish bile before rinsing and spitting. He held out a hand to Sam. "Get up. I've got to get this taste out of my mouth."

Sam let Dean drag him to his feet. "Dude, I'm never eating again."

"Come on, I think there's some mouthwash in the car. And I think I found the key to this." He walked rapidly out of the building, Sam having to trot to keep up with him long, legs or no.

"What?"

Dean held up a finger before going head first into the trunk. Tossing a couple of towels and boxes around, he pawed through an old dopp kit before holding up a bag. "Eureka." He fished out a bottle of Listerine, took a huge mouthful, and started to gargle loudly.

"Could you be more uncouth?" Sam took a discrete sip and rinsed. "We were really smooth in there, Dean. Real official CDC. "

"Hey, I made it longer than you." Sam huffed but watched with interest when Dean pulled out a small notebook and drew two complex symbols: 餓鬼. "I found this mark on the skin over every one of her joints—elbows, wrists, hips. The coroner hadn't reported it because he thought it was some kind of tattoo."

"I know that mark. It's in Dad's journal."

"I know you do. It's _gaki _in Japanese and a_ preta _in Tibetan. A 'hungry ghost'. Hey, you want Japanese food? What's that thing you like with the raw jellyfish?"

Sam could see the grin on Dean's face just before he started dry heaving.

* * *

Her friend leaned so far over the empty aisle seat, Carol thought Judy's head was going to end up in her lap. "What the hell are you doing, Judy?"

"You can see the driver's face. Can I switch places with you?"

"Yes, I can. And no, I won't." She looked around her friends' faces and patted the aisle seat. "And remember, I'm saving that seat for Allan at least until the bus pulls out."

"We could take turns."

"No, 'we' can't. Besides, you have a great view of the guy outside. All I can see is a little bit." The compact mirror she was angling over her shoulder was totally inadequate. Movement at the front of the bus caught her attention and she watched the driver stand and trot down the stairs. She looked at her friend. "Did you notice? His feet are so big he has to put them sideways on the steps."

Judy sighed. "Big hands, big feet... we all know what that means."

A voice piped up behind them. "Is that really true?" Mabel was eighty if she was a day. "They're both big guys." Just then another passenger approached the bus, a tiny Asian woman of indeterminate years. The driver took a few minutes to help her onto the bus before turning to the baggage handler. Mabel waved. "Keiko, over here! I saved you a seat."

Carol watched Keiko with some interest and, if she had to admit, a little bit of jealousy. Asian woman just seemed to age so much more gracefully than Caucasian ones. She patted her spiky white coif, reassured that her cut was modern and youthful even if it wasn't a smooth waterfall like Keiko's still jet black hair.

Carol didn't know very much about Keiko. She much older than Carol, having lived near Hiroshima when the bomb had been dropped. Keiko and Mabel had bonded in the shallow end of the pool during arthritis swim class, having both their height—four foot nothing—and their war bride history in common.

Mabel glanced out the window before saying to Keiko, "Is it true what they say about big hands and feet?"

Carol cranked around and watched Keiko look appraisingly at the men outside the bus. She said in her quiet voice, "In my experience, yes." which elicited a round of laughter.

Carol turned and looked around the bus, checking faces, finally standing up to get a better view. She called out to the group, "Has anyone seen Lucy or Mary?"

Someone called out "There they are", and sure enough, both of their missing members were hurrying to the bus. Lucy was a newcomer to group and Carol had been looking forward to a chance to get to know her better. Lucy fiddling around the luggage at the last minute, and then both she and Mary climbed onto the bus.

"Something's going on with the men."

Carol angled her mirror again and watched the shorter man reach up and smack the driver on the back of the head before waving a box over each bag. _Must be a check for explosives._ The driver came back onto the bus and folded himself onto the driver's seat. To Carol's surprise, the baggage guy hopped on just before the door closed. The bus pulled out of the station toward the interstate. After a few minutes, the shorter man took down the microphone a tour guide would normally use.

"Hello, ladies. Welcome to, ahh, East Coast Bus Lines. We'll be taking you to Atlantic City today for a wild weekend of…", the driver swung out an arm and clipped him on the leg, "for a wonderful weekend. I'm Dean, your guide, and the driver here is Sam. Any complaints about his driving should come straight to me. Any questions?"

A dozen hands went up.

* * *

The pants were too short, the jacket wouldn't button, the clip-on tie was pathetic, and strands of long brown hair were sticking out over the ears and below the cap.

"Dude, you look like a…" Dean had to turn away to hide a smile, before turning back to tug on Sam's button down collar, "absolutely totally one hundred percent gen-u-wine professional bus driver." That time he couldn't hide the grin, or the chuckle that made his shoulders shake.

"Dean. I can't wear this." Sam held out a leg, clad in gray polyester pants with a black stripe down the seam, and stared at it with obvious revulsion. "The pants don't make it to my ankles. And black socks do not", he glared at Dean, "make it look any less stupid."

"Bus drivers don't need to be fashion plates, Sam. No one will notice."

Pulling at the jacket sleeves again, Sam pouted. "Why didn't you steal a uniform from a tall person?"

"Sure, Shaquille O'Neal's locker's right over there. At least it's your shirt. Look, man, none of the drivers here are even as tall as me." He scowled when Sam snorted. "What? I'm tall. You're unnaturally tall. Like a sequoia."

"A sequoia that looks like a complete moron in this." He sighed. "Maybe we need another plan. There's got to be another way. The passengers could get hurt, or killed."

"We've been through this. _Gakis_, _Pretas... _they don't come out at night and sunset is our only time to do the ritual. The bus is the only lead we have. We can't wait til they get to Atlantic City..." Dean frowned, tugged off Sam's hat, snapped his fingers. "Give me your comb."

Sam slapped his hands away. "I'm not six."

Tossing his hands up, Dean pointed to a mirror behind Sam. "Then comb your hair behind your ears. You'll look a lot better."

"Why aren't you driving again?"

"Because you got drunk on the last job." Dean had to bite his tongue not to add, _'And because you made me promise to kill you_.'

Sam seemed oblivious. "The greasy pork sandwich in the ashtray image was punishment enough. I threw up my toenails."

Dean grinned. "That _was _awesome. But you still drive the bus. Just carry the jacket." Tsking, he handed Sam a comb. "Hurry up and comb your hair, for god's sake, or you'll scare the fugly."

Sam ran fingers through his hair and resettled the hat at a rakish angle. Dean turned his head to hide a grin. "You have the box?"

"Already on the bus. You have the EMF? Binding lasso? Athamé?"

Dean tapped one pocket. "Magic box—check." Tapped another pocket. "Magic rope—check." Gestured to his back. "Magic knife—check."

"Ready?"

"Let me at 'em. I can take on a busload of bluehairs."

* * *

Judy spoke out of the side of her mouth, "We get a tour guide?"

Carol shrugged. "We're just going to Atlantic City."

Mabel leaned forward and whispered. "He could be the entertainment?"

Carol started to laugh. She elbowed Judy. "Maybe somebody ordered a stripper?" Judy turned to Beth and Kathy across the aisle and repeated the question. The bus was buzzing soon enough, until one woman said piercingly from the back, "I would never abide a stripper. But," and her voice dropped conspiratorially, "if he's already here, we could see what's he's got."

Carol laughed again as Dean blushed. "Ladies, ladies. I'm not a stripper. I'm a, a magician." He turned toward the driver and shrugged.

"Well, we could tell you weren't a tour guide."

He smiled and glanced up through his eyelashes and Carol thought she would melt right into her seat. "In fact, I'm going to use this magic rope", he held up a braided length of fabric, "to perform an amazing illusion. I'm going to make one of you change shape. First though, I want you all to take these."

He pulled up a box and walked down the aisle, handing out strands of bells to each passenger. Carol inspected hers carefully and like everyone else gave her strand an experimental shake. Over the ringing, Dean continued, "I'm also going to give a few of you these", he held up a strand of noisemakers. Several women held up their hands while he distributed those from the front to the back.

Carol glanced up and caught the driver intensely studying the passengers in his rear view mirror. When Sam saw her staring, she looked down and away, only then realizing that Dean was standing by her row of seats. He tapped at an earphone, turned left, then right. He pulled the same black box out of his pocket and tapped at it. Lights flashed at the top. He shook it before dropping it back in his pocket.

"Now ladies, when I say 'Bells', I want you to shake your bells as loudly as you can. If I say, 'Firecrackers', I want those ladies with the noise makers to throw them onto the floor of the bus just as hard as you can." He lifted the rope. "Ready?"

Carol called out 'ready' with everyone else. Dean swung the rope to loop around Keiko's neck. "Bells!"

Turning in her seat to watch the action, Carol shook her bells as hard as she could and watched Keiko. Nothing happened. Dean shouted a string of nonsense syllables. Still nothing. Someone behind Carol started to laugh and soon most of the passengers were laughing nervously, one woman going to far as to call out to Dean, "If that's the best trick you have, maybe you should take up stripping!" There was more laughter.

Things happened so quickly after that, Carol wasn't sure weeks later exactly what happened.

Lucy stood up behind Dean and she was changed, grotesquely changed, wizened, sunken-eyed, her neck three times too long for her body. Carol screamed "Behind you!" just as the driver bellowed, "Bells! Firecrackers!" Dean turned, but it was all in slow motion, everyone screaming, bells ringing and sparks, the noise and smoke, the brakes hissing, Dean turning, a knife in Lucy's hand... Carol lunged for the knife, the hand, screaming, but she was too late, and she watched in horror as the thing that was Lucy rammed the knife up to its hilt in Dean's side.

* * *

TBC


	2. At least there aren't any rats

Thank you for all the alerts, favorites, and reviews! Again, this is for the lovely and patient Nana56, a goddess among women.

* * *

Dean grunted, squeezing his eyes shut, hand fumbling toward his side. What the hell? The EMF had been wonky, yeah, but he'd put the rope on the woman whose luggage had made it light up like Christmas.

His hand came back slick with blood. Had to be a knife—small wound, a through and through right above his belt. Bells were ringing, smoke curled around him, women were screaming but it felt hushed somehow, like he was moving in slow motion. He looked down and checked the wounds again. She'd almost missed him, just gone through a bit of muscle and skin.

The bus lurched and time and noise and pain came back as he was thrown into a wall of perfume and soft flesh. There were a few gasps, and then several pairs of hands helped him straighten. "Are you alright? I saw…" More voices clamoring for attention. "What was that? What happened?"

"'M'fine. Everything's okay." He opened his eyes. The _gaki_ was a few rows back, slithering over a couple of empty seats toward an open window. Most of the passengers had jammed themselves up at the front of the bus, but a few were pressed against the back bulkhead, leaving the middle of the bus to Dean and the creature.

Hunting a fugly in a bus full of screaming, panicked witnesses? What a cluster fuck. All they'd planned to do was immobilize her until sunset, clear the bus, and perform the appeasement ritual. That's what Sam wanted to do at least. Dean's plan had been to screw appeasement and gank her with the athamé once the bus was empty.

And damn, if she wasn't getting away. He bolted forward and lunged for her, hooking three fingers of his left hand around one stick thin ankle. "Gotcha." Looking around frantically, he spotted the woman they'd initially ID'd outside the bus. He raised his voice, called out, "Ma'am. I need the rope." Eyes on the monster, he held out one hand, gesturing frantically. "I need the magic rope."

The monster turned its head and looked back at him with such ancient knowing eyes that he instinctively recoiled. He cut his eyes toward the front and saw a white haired woman holding the braided cloth. She tossed it underhand. Just as he caught it, the gaki, tiny mouth stretched in a parody of a smile, all rictus and pointed teeth, reached back and delicately touched his wrist.

Blinding pain shot up his arm, through his ribs, sparking the stab wounds with fire, and raced straight into his skull. He was pretty sure he would have screamed if he'd been able to unlock his jaw and draw in a breath. She drew her hand away.

Heaving in a lungful of air, his hand automatically reached for his side and his blood soaked clothes. He blinked the spots our of his eyes and looked at his wrist. Nothing. No mark, no brand. No gaki ankle in his grip, either. He should be a pile of goo. Movement drew his sluggish attention toward the back of the bus and another open window. The thing started to squirm through but she hesitated, looking at the road below, back into the bus, then toward the road.

The sound of the tires changed. The bus was slowing down, moving onto the gravel shoulder. And the gaki was pulling herself out of the window. Dean caught Sam's eyes in the rearview mirror and made a frantic rolling gesture with his hand. "Don't stop, Sam! She'll get away. Speed up!"

The bus accelerated with a roar and another lurch, this time pushing everyone still standing toward the back of the bus. Dean caught a seat back and held on. The gaki fell back into the bus with a squeal of rage.

He shouted, "Please, everyone, move toward the front of the bus!" The passengers began filing up the center aisle, but they weren't quick enough. Striking as fast as a snake, the fugly put both hands on a woman passing, pushing her down on a seat. The remaining passengers scrambled for the front blocking him, and he couldn't move. He could only watch as the victim started to slouch down, shrinking into the seat, the sound of the thing's grotesque pleasure clear over the roar of the engine and fifty or so passengers all starting to scream.

Clutching at a seat back, he swallowed convulsively. God, he was going to puke.

"Dean! You okay back there?" There was a lot of worry and concern packed into Sam's voice.

Dean waved, listened with half an ear to Sam addressing the passengers clustered at the front of the bus. "Everything will be fine if you stay calm. I'll stop the bus once Dean subdues the, ah, criminal. No one else will be hurt."

Dean laughed, eyes tracking toward the 'criminal' to be subdued. The gaki, the preta, she, it, whatever, wasn't inhumanly strong. And it was scared of hitting tarmac at fifty-five miles an hour. All he needed to do was loop the special rope around her and hold her for sunset. Do the thing… the ritual, and ask her to move on. Skewer her If she wouldn't. Piece of cake.

A drop of blood slithered down his leg. The coppery smell reached his nose and he gagged again, bracing himself as he suddenly felt lightheaded, legs rubbery. A touch on his arm startled him, bringing his attention back and down. A woman with white spiky hair was next to him, looking up. "Lady, go back to the front of the bus."

"Dean, isn't it? You're bleeding. You need to sit down." She pulled a suitcase down from the overhead rack, opened it, and began rummaging through it.

"Just need to deal with the…" he waved a hand toward the gaki, "the fluke. Still need to get my…" He wasn't thinking straight. He reached around his back. "Need somethin'."

She retrieved the rope from the floor near his feet. He didn't even remember dropping it. "Is this what you are looking for?" A nod, and she continued. "A what? A fluke? The driver… Sam, said she was a criminal." She yanked another suitcase down from the rack, ruthlessly dumping the contents over the nearby seats. "I saw her stab you." She pulled his jacket to one side, brushing his hands away, and pressed pads on both wounds hard, making his breath catch. "I've got to wrap this tight."

"Use my belt." He spared a glance down and watched her wrap something… brown around his waist. "What's that?"

"Panty-hose." She leaned her short frame back, huffing, and pulled the nylon jarringly tight, pushing an involuntary gasp from him before she tied it off efficiently. She dropped his jacket but not before she pulled a brutal looking knife from its sheath at his waist. "What's this for?"

"Athamé." He took it gratefully. "Special fluke killing knife."

She repeated, "A fluke?"

He pointed at it. "A gaki, or a preta. That freaky _X Files_ fluke thing right there."

"But that's… that was Lucy."

"Not anymore. Look, thanks for your help with the" he moved one hand toward the bandage, "but you should probably go back to the front. Keep everyone up there."

"Oh, god, what's that?" Her eyes had locked on what was left of the monster's last victim.

Dean caught her arm and her attention. "Listen to me. It's _really_ important everyone stays up front. I'll keep her back here. Please."

"You shouldn't…"

"Just have to make it another hour, pretty sure. Ask Sam."

She turned and walked toward the front. Dean rolled his shoulders and focused, taking long breaths through his nose. He was a hunter, and that fugly thing there? Was prey. He stalked forward, and if he had to use the seat backs to steady himself more than he would like, he was okay with that. The bitch was going down.

He held up the rope and the knife and grinned. "Come to Papa, Bone Girl."

* * *

Carol picked her way to the front carefully. She spoke to a few of her friends quietly, urging them to stay in their seats and help everyone remain calm. A few passengers were talking into cell phones. She caught Sam watching her in the rear view mirror as she came to stand next to him.

She leaned down and spoke quietly into his ear. "You need to stop the bus. "I know Dean said to keep moving…"

Sam's hands almost came off the wheel in his haste to crank around for a view of the back. "What happened? Is he alright?"

"I, uh, don't think so. He isn't. And there's this pile of…" she gulped, "That thing isn't Lucy, is it?"

Sam shook his head slowly. "No. It's not. He bellowed, aiming his voice toward the back of the bus. "Dean!"

Carol could see that only a few feet separated Dean and the monster now. He yelled back, "I'm fine. How long?"

Sam checked his watch and yelled back, "Thirty-two minutes."

"Just keep this thing moving, Sam!"

Sam leveled such an intense glare in her direction she took an involuntary step back. "He's not fine, is he?"

She shook her head. "What is it? Dean said you would know. And it killed someone. The woman it touched just shrank to nothing except..." She was embarrassed to realize she was crying. "I don't know what else to do. Dean needs help."

Sam tried again to look in the back. "Did you see what happened?"

"Dean put the rope around Keiko's neck and nothing happened. We all rang the bells, and some firecrackers went off and then Lucy, she had this knife." Carol put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. "Lucy stabbed him, here", she pointed at her side, "during the scuffle. I tried…" She took a deep breath. "I tried to stop her, but she stabbed him and he's bleeding..." tears were running down her cheeks.

Suddenly a large arm wrapped around her. "Hang in there. Is he upright?"

"Yeah, yes, he's up. I bandaged the wounds and wrapped them, but…"

"Carol, it is Carol, isn't it?"

She nodded jerkily, brushed at her eyes impatiently.

"Can you be my eyes back there? Tell me what's going on?"

"Why can't you stop the bus? Let us get off."

"If I do, the gaki might get away. She'll kill more people. Dean and I only need another thirty minutes to stop her for good."

Her eyes widened. "More people?"

* * *

Sam thought they'd done pretty well up until then. The original plan had gone to hell in a hand basket, but they were coping. He hadn't crashed the bus or run into anything which was kind of miraculous considering he twitched every time a car changed lanes in front of the him. Hell, the largest thing he'd driven up until then was the Impala. At least he'd found the cruise control, so he had more time to deal with the road and the spooked passengers, and Dean had the thing corralled in the back of the bus, away from anymore victims.

Now, he wasn't so sure. Dean was _stabbed_, traffic was picking up, and on checking his watch for the eighteenth time, he confirmed there were still nineteen minutes before sundown. And his only source of help right now was a woman who looked like she was going to faint. He caught her eyes. "I really need your help. Dean and I can't lose her again. She'll start killing people someplace else, and it could take us months to find it again."

"Find it? That's why you're here." She straightened, her eyes involuntarily drawn to the back. She spoke a little too loudly. "You can kill it?"

"We can make sure it doesn't kill anyone else. Ever. Will you help me? What can you see back there, Carol?"

She took a deep breath and peered toward the back. "Looks like Dean's got it cornered by the bathrooms. He looks pretty steady. What is that thing, anyway? Dean called it a fluke. You called it a gaki?"

Sam snorted out a laugh. "No, not a fluke. It's a preta. The word's Tibetan but there are instances of creatures like it in most Asian cultures. In Japanese, it's a gaki—a hungry ghost."

"What is it really?"

"It's a spirit that hasn't passed over. Buddhists, Hindus, a lot of belief systems suggest that people suffer in one life for their sins in a previous one. The story is that in a previous life, gakis were jealous or greedy. To atone for it, they live a kind of half-life, insatiably hungry for something that was part of their previous life. They can be hungry for food, but it can also be almost anything else. This one is attached to human bones, women's bones specifically, we think."

"Well, that… that's just ridiculous." Her laugh sounded forced. "It's just a deformed… ape. With a calcium deficiency or something."

He caught her eyes. She looked scared to death. "Whatever it is, Dean and I won't let anyone else get hurt by it." He saw a sea of red brake lights ahead, and gently applied the brakes. "Keep an eye on the back for me. I have to keep this thing moving"

* * *

"What are you trying to do, hunter?" Its voice was whispery and harsh.

Dean ignored her. Pulling a piece of paper and a marker out of his pocket, he gingerly lowered himself onto his knees. Looking at the paper, he carefully drew a sigil on the floor of the bus. He gestured, holding a seat back for balance as he stood up again. "Keeping you right where I want you."

"You've trapped me in a vehicle full of food."

"No, I've trapped you back here by the bathrooms. You can't cross that mark." He smiled, and winced again as pain flared through his side. "You pack a helluva punch."

It made a high whistling noise. "I pack a knife." She held up a slender blade.

He held up the athamé. "I pack a much bigger one."

"But I am strong and you are bleeding. Growing weaker. I see how you hold on to that seat. Soon, you'll be so tired I'll be able to walk up and touch you. Touch you, hunter, just as I've touched so many others."

"You had your chance. But why'd'ja use a knife when you coulda make me look like a, uh, rubber chicken? Doesn't work on guys?" She hissed furiously, head darting back and forth. That was good news. "You can hurt me but not kill me. Awesome. So, what, ah, what sins are you atoning for? What kept you from moving on?"

She hissed. "I did _nothing_ wrong." Her voice rose in volume. "I'm innocent. Why are you threatening me? Mary! Someone help me, please!"

"No one is coming to the rescue. They saw you kill that women, you freak. They've seen what you look like, what you are. And you aren't getting off this bus."

"But you are so tired. Your knees are starting to shake. Your pants are soaked in your blood, your life blood draining away with your consciousness..."

Dean flipped the athamé, catching the blade with his fingertips. "My hand is going to throw this athamé into your eyeball." He held out the rope. "You're going to put this around your neck and strangle yourself."

Sneering, she, it, said, "How long do you plan to keep me here?"

"Not too much longer. 'Nother thirty minutes should do it."

"The bus will have to stop by then." It looked toward the windows. "You can't keep me here."

"It won't stop and I can. Why don't you try jumping out again? At this speed, you'll be a smear on the pavement."

Its head lifted and cocked to one side. "One of the passengers must have called the police. I just love older women. They're so thoughtful. Responsible. And their bones…." It, she, licked her lips and looked back at Dean. "And they carry cell phones. I love modern technology, don't you?"

He could hear the sirens now. "If I could kill you with a cell phone, the answer would be yes." Keeping a wary eye on the gaki, he thought furiously as he stepped between two seats and peered at the road behind them. Just then he felt and heard the brakes.

He turned to look up front. "Sam, don't slow down! Five-oh!" The bus slowed further. "What's happening up there?"

A voice, definitely not Sam's, called back over the rising volume of noise from the front. "Traffic jam."

"Tell him to go around it. Tell him to do something!"

It was the lady from before. Carol. She pointed, and screamed. "Look out!"

Dean spun and smoothly caught the gaki's outstretched wrist in the slip knot he'd tied in the rope. Jerking back, he snugged it tighter, coiling the rope up her arm as she hissed and spat. She slapped ineffectively at the cloth, screaming as smoke started to rise up from her arm.

"Thought you'd never get close enough." Breathing out a sigh of relief, he sat down heavily in a seat. She was powerless and trapped behind the symbol.

"Dean!" It was the woman again. "Sam wants to know if you're okay."

"Tagged and bagged, Sam. How much longer before sundown?" Sam's voice reached him over the din.

"Twenty-three minutes."

He rubbed his eyes. Only twenty minutes? "Can you keep us moving?"

"Yeah, think so. There's a rest stop a few miles ahead. Can you make it 'til then?"

"If the police don't stop us, sure."

"We'll figure something out. Why don't you…"

Dean heard Sam curse, before he shouted, "Hang on!" The bus slewed left then right.

Dean looked back toward the fugly only to see her sidle past the back bulkhead. She couldn't go past the sigil, but she didn't need to reach the side of the bus. And the windows.

He pulled himself up. "Son of a bitch! Not again." Rope or not, if she got away… "Get back here! What are you going to do—gnaw off your arm?"

She slipped a window down and started to climb. He dodged forward, reaching for her, just as the bus veered sharply to the right, throwing him into a row of seats. Everything went white for a few seconds. When he came to and reached the window, the only thing he could see were her kicking legs and feet. "Jump now, bitch. Smear on the pavement!"

She hissed, wiggled, and... went _up_. There was a thump on the roof.

Dean ran for the front. "Need the box, Sam. Need it right now!" He was met halfway by that same woman. "It's like you're the only one on the bus, lady. Who are you?"

"Carol." She held up the box Sam had loaded on the bus.

He started to load his pockets. "You tell Sam to go as fast as he can. To not stop for anything."

"Where is it?

Another thump overhead. Several women screamed. Dean pointed. "Up there. Trying to get off."

Her hand caught his arm again. "Wait, what are you going to do?"

"Climb up there and keep her from getting away. I just need a few more minutes."

"But the police are almost here. They can stop her, can't they?"

He shook his head. "Tell Sam to keep the bus moving as fast as he can." Dean climbed onto a seat, opened the window, and reached one arm through, exploring with his fingers until he found something to grab. He worked his shoulders through the opening one by one, then his chest, until he could sit on the window frame. He reached up again, found a metal railing, and locked both hands around it. Before he could think about what he was doing and the traffic speeding by right next to him, he pulled himself up, stood in the window and pushed with his legs, finally sprawling face down on the roof of the bus.

He locked eyes with the gaki. "Honey? I'm home!"

* * *

TBC


	3. Could be worse, could be raining

Confession Time: There will be four chapters to this story.  
A/N: Sorry to be a day late. Either the site or my computer was wonky when I tried to post yesterday. Fortunately that gave Merisha an opportunity to give this chapter a good beta whack. All remaining erros are my own.

* * *

Being on top of a bus in highway traffic wasn't nearly as exciting as the movies made it appear. _In fact,_ Dean thought, eyes screwed shut, _it was mostly terrifying_. The road was further down than it had any right to be, and each time the bus changed speed or moved in the lane, he would grip tighter, his eyes automatically locking on the edge of the roof just in case it decided to move toward him.

It was also deafeningly loud—cars honking, braking, engines working, and really big trucks kept speeding by right next to him, air horns blaring, the truckers themselves almost at his eye level gesturing and shouting, but any sense to what they were saying was lost in the roar and whistle of the wind streaming over the bus.

The bus shimmied in the lane and his breath caught. When Sam overcorrected to bring the bus back into line, he felt that in his stomach. Dean should have driven. Not that he wanted his brother up here… but Dean knew he was the better driver and by far the most experienced one. And who knows, maybe Sam could have looked at the fugly with that earnest puppy dog look and she would have walked right up to be roped and banished.

It all came down to making that twisted promise to Sam. He'd been angry since the Pierpont Hotel, was still angry even up on top of the bus, and he'd made a stupid decision. The only thing he could do now was to stop thinking about the promise, and move ahead. Finish the hunt. What he always did.

Dean pushed up onto his elbows, pushed with his toes, and started worming his way toward the center of the bus. The gaki was keeping its distance, moving on its hands and knees at the rear edge of the bus. She, it, whatever, was keeping a wary eye on him but was thankfully not doing anything overtly threatening. He was tired, dizzy, cold, and already panting from crawling—no way he could get up and fight until he got his breath back. And the world stopped rotating around him.

He reached his goal and with a low groan, rolled onto his back. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he waited for his head to stop spinning before reaching down to feel his side. The bandages were soaked, but were solidly in place despite his climb to the roof. He gave his makeshift wrap a tug, eyebrows up. He wondered what Sam would do when he found a pack of pantyhose in the first-aid kit. Smiling to himself, Dean looked up at the sky and the clouds pinking up to the west before wincing and hissing, with a hand pressed to his side, he rolled himself onto his knees.

"Hunter." Her voice sounded right next to him but she hadn't moved from her position at the rear of the vehicle. "Let me go. I won't hurt anyone else. Stop the bus and let me off."

"Fuck off, monster." He pulled his marker and the gaki sigil cheat sheet out of his pocket with a flourish. The page was covered with bloody fingerprints by the time he unfolded it and started to draw. The paper, madly fluttering, was finally torn from his hand as he finished, the wind spinning it up, down, under cars, over them, until to Dean's amusement, the page landed flat on the windshield of a Humvee.

Laughing hoarsely, he pointed towards the giant vehicle pulling to the shoulder. "Hey, gaki. You see that?"

It just looked at him, no expression he could read in its face. "What do you want, hunter."

His mouth felt too dry to talk. He hoped it was the wind, not blood loss sucking all the moisture out of him. He rasped out, "What do you think? I want to send you to the afterlife." He stopped, working his mouth and tongue to work up some spit. "Or hell, if you have one in Japan or China or wherever it is you come from."

"My parents are from Tibet. I grew up in Poughkeepsie."

"Poughkeepsie? A gaki… no, Tibet would make you a preta. A preta from Jersey. No, New York!" He was lightheaded and it probably wasn't all that funny, but that made him laugh so hard he listed to one side, onto his hip, gasping when the movement twisted the knife wound. The bus slewed to one side as if in reaction, sending him skidding toward the edge. He reached out frantically and caught the edge of an air intake vent, shaking his head to clear his vision. The preta was still on the roof, hunkered down, like a barnacle stuck to a rock.

He sat up, cross legged, and asked, "So, why'd you become a monster? And while we're at it, why do you brand people in Japanese?"

"Why do you care?"

He shrugged. "Time to kill. You aren't going anywhere. Few minutes, it'll be sunset and I'll banish you."

"You aren't going anywhere either, hunter, because you'll be dead soon."

"Or I could kill you now. Cleaner." He held up the athamé.

It came up on its knees, gesturing toward the cars around them, eliciting a new series of shouts and honks. "In front of all of these witnesses?" She pointed toward the flashing lights closing in on them. "In front of the police?"

"Sure. Easy." Dean rubbed his eyes. He lowered his voice, mock serious. "Why, yes, officer, I did stab a knife into this disgusting plastic replica of an alien. Why do you ask?" He put a hand to his ear, mimed listening. "Oh, on top of the bus?" He couldn't stop a yawn. "Too much perfume inside. Was making me sneeze."

"You still won't do it. When I get this rope off, I won't look like an alien."

"I'll worry about that after I kill you. Why women? Why older women?"

"That is none of your business."

"I get that you don't like male bones…." He started to giggle, rubbing his temples. "God, that's dirty."

"Still think you're going to last 'til sunset?"

"Just have to last longer than you." Damn, he was tired. He wished there was something to lean against. The bus swerved again and his fingers reflexively tightened on the cowling, a sharp edge slicing into his thumb. Hissing, he switched hands, and sucked on the cut. "Tell me. Why older women?"

"Osteoporosis makes their bones _extra _crunchy." It licked its lips suggestively. "I could make an exception for you."

"Yeah, right. We've been through this before." The bus veered onto the shoulder and immediately back into the right lane. Dean shouted and locked both hands onto the metal vent as his legs swung out and sent his feet over the edge. Heaving in air, he dragged himself back to the center of the roof and pulled out his cell phone.

As soon as the line connected, he yelled over the wind: "Sam! You almost dropped me in front of a _Scion_. Do not let me be killed by a car that looks like a pansy shoebox. At least wait for a convertible with a hot blonde driving."

"_Um, hello?"_

Definitely not Sam. Female. Crap. Who did he call? "Uh, sorry. Misdialed."

"_No, it's okay. You didn't. I have Sam's phone. Hang on a minute."_

"Hanging on is about all I _can_ do! Put Sam on!"

"_I can't."_

He could barely make out what she was saying. "Who is this? Why can't you give Sam his phone?"

"_I'm driving the bus and…."_

"Oh, God. Carol? It's Carol, isn't it? Of course it is."

"_I'm sorry about the lane switching, but Sam… look, stay there."_

"Where is he? He'd better not be in the can."

"_No. He's on his way."_

"He's WHAT? You tell him to get his scrawny ass back in the driver's seat!"

* * *

Sam stared at Carol as if she had lost her mind. "He did what?"

"Uh, climbed out the window. After it." She pointed, biting her lip. "He's… up there."

His eyes were involuntarily pulled to the ceiling, as if they could laser right through the metal and see his brother. Sam glared at the road, at Carol, and at the police cars starting to pull alongside the bus. "Damn it." He hit the steering wheel and glared at it when his hand hurt. "We just need a few more minutes and this'll be over. We have to make sure he gets the time."

"What does he have to do?"

"Appease it. Read an incantation. Bribe it to move on."

"Sam? I, I don't think he wants to appease it. I saw him and that knife. He wants to kill it."

"Dean may have impulse control issues but he's the best hunter I know. He's stubborn but he'll do it. The ritual will make the gaki disappear. No body to explain." He huffed out a laugh when she rolled her eyes.

"So, you're the level-headed one? What are you going to do?"

"Call him." He pulled out his cell, dialed, and listened to the call ring through to voice mail once, twice, three times. He glared at the phone. "Shit. I have to get up there."

"Get up there? The roof? You can't. Who'll drive the bus?"

"You can."

"You said Dean had impulse control issues!" Her eyes were huge as she shook her head back and forth. "No, no I can't. I won't. I drive a sedan. I could never drive anything like this. There's got to be someone here that's driven a bus before."

He gazed at her seriously, and said, with all the sincerity he could muster, "But I don't trust someone else not to stop the bus. I trust you." Her expression softened and he pushed ahead. "There's nothing to it. I hadn't driven one until today either and I haven't crashed." He smiled and pointed. "I found the cruise control. All you have to do is go straight in this lane and not hit anything." He reached out one long arm and pulled her closer. "Don't slow down until we get to the rest area, then pull in and stop."

One hand on the wheel, he stood up and pushed Carol into the seat. "Fasten your seat belt." When she had clicked it shut, he put her hands on the wheel and removed his. "Steer."

She wailed, "I can't reach the pedals!"

The uniform hat hit the floor, the tie followed a moment later. Sam bent and adjusted the seat forward. "Better?"

Her nod looked almost reflexive. "I can't do this."

"You have to. Carol—I can't leave him up there. He could bleed out. The thing could attack him. I have to go."

"Who is he to you, really? A friend?"

"My brother."

"Go." She smiled and waved toward the road ahead. "I may kill us all, but I won't stop. Besides, I always wanted to take on the fuzz. This'll be payback for all those speeding tickets."

"You won't kill us. Thank you, Carol."

* * *

"Get going."

She tried to divide her attention between the road and the rear view mirror, watching Sam push his way through the crowd at the front and bolt for the back, throwing his too tight jacket onto a seat about half way back. Hearing a honk, she looked toward the road and swung the huge vehicle back to the center of her lane. She caught Judy's eye in the mirror.

"Can you see what he's doing?'

Judy nodded. "He's trying to get out a window." A nervous laugh and she looked back at Carol for a moment. "I don't think he can get through. He's trying one shoulder first, like the other guy, but he can't get out."

Carol looked back and saw Sam standing by the rear door, almost bouncing in place.

"Carol! Open the door! Carol!"

"He wants you to open the door back there," Judy repeated helpfully.

"I can hear him!" The control panel was a mass of dials and gauges, switches and levers, but nothing marked 'Open Rear Door'. To Sam, she shouted, "I can't find it."

Judy promptly echoed her to Sam. "She can't find the control."

Sam dodged back to the front of the bus and tugged a lever, opening the front door with a rush of air. "Hold it steady." Standing on the bottom step, he frowned suddenly. "Do you have a cell phone?"

"In my purse." She pointed back to her seat.

"Never mind. Don't have time to get your number." He tossed her his phone. "Keep trying Dean's number. Speed dial one."

He reached up and groped the area over the door, suddenly grinning. "Found something." He looked up at her from the foot of the stairs. "Hold it _really_ steady."

She nodded and watched Sam pull a foot up on the metal wall separating the steps from the first row of seats. Movement in the corner of her eye dragged her attention to the left. A police cruiser angled directly toward the bus. Reacting instinctively, she pulled hard to the right, pushing the vehicle toward the shoulder. That dislodged Sam's foot, and left him dangling by one arm. He was pulled back into the bus, his legs swinging almost to the driver's seat.

_"WHAT HAPPENED TO HOLDING IT STEADY?" _

"Sorry, sorry!" Pulling the wheel hard to the left, the bus moved back into the right hand lane, tapping the cruiser's front panel, easily brushing it out of their way. Sam shouted again, momentum swinging his legs out the door and out and over the shoulder. Carol didn't scream, but most of the other passengers did, adding a cacophony of shrill voices to the roar of the bus and the wail of sirens.

Another cruiser, lights flashing, raced up the shoulder, pulling alongside only inches from the side of the bus. The officer driving reached out to grab Sam's feet. Her eyes locked onto Sam's pale face. His eyes were squeezed shut, his nostrils flared, jaw and neck muscles standing out, the muscles in his arms cording, visible even through his shirt. Her breath caught in her throat._ He can't be any older than Allan._ _Maybe younger._

Sam blindly kicked away from the officer's hands and planted his feet on the upper frame of the car door. He bent his knees. She heard the grunt of effort and determination when he pushed off, pulling his head and shoulders up by main force. His chest, his legs, and finally his feet disappeared onto the roof.

_He'd made it._ She breathed out to the sound of cheering. Remembered to snick the door closed in case a policeman tried to climb in. Turning to the left, she waved through the window at a red-faced policeman in the cruiser next to her. He was holding a bullhorn, gesticulating frantically, pointing up, at her, toward the shoulder… She smiled sweetly and shook her head, cupped a hand to her ear, then pointed at an imaginary hearing aid.

Judy crept up to stand next to her. "Ah, Carol? I know you said we couldn't stop or that monster would get away. But the police… don't you have to stop now?"

"I have to hold it for another few minutes. There's a rest stop ahead. Sam told me to pull in there." She wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline making her hands shake or the relief, but she felt a lot lighter all of a sudden. She started to giggle.

"Carol, are you alright?" Judy reached a tentative hand out to rest on her shoulder.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Gulping in air, she held up Sam's phone. "I have to call Dean's phone." She almost dropped when it started to ring before she'd done anything. She pushed a button and held it to her ear.

"Um, hello?"

* * *

Something heavy fell on his shoulder. Startled, Dean dropped his phone and watched it skitter across the roof and disappear over the edge. Sure what he would find, he twisted to one side and found his behemoth of a brother hovering right over his shoulder. Sam was kneeling, hands up, his long hair whipping into his face and eyes.

"Sam? Warn me next time!" Pain spiked from the wound in his side, making his breath hitch. Wincing and sucking air through his clenched teeth, he ground out. "What the hell are you doing up here? You can barely drive the bus and you let Carol do it?"

"What?" Sam threw his arms out the sides, pulling them in quickly as the wind caught at them. "_Who_ decided I would drive the bus again?" Dean shook his head, eyes down. When he looked up, Sam had crept forward on his hands and knees until they were practically nose to nose. "I called and called. You didn't pick up."

He shouted, "It's noisy up here! I couldn't hear it!" Even facing the wind, he could feel his cheeks burning. Adrenaline fueled anger was making it hard to see. "I've got things under control, Sam. Why didn't you trust me to take care of this?"

Equally red-faced, Sam yelled back, "Because you were stabbed!"

"Had worse and finished a hunt. You know that!" He was starting to hyperventilate, each breath felt like it was ripping him in two. "No, you came up here because you were worried I wouldn't live long enough to keep that piece of shit promise." Groaning he wrapped both arms around himself and rocked forward, resting his head on the cool sheet metal.

"No, that's not…"

The gaki's sly, hoarse voice interrupted him. "I don't know when I've seen a better floor show. Or, is that a roof show? You two should go on the road. Wait, you _are_ on the road. I…"

In unison, they snarled. "Shut up!"

Without raising his head, Dean muttered, "Sam?"

Sam spoke in his ear, "Yeah?"

"Please tell me it's sunset? Because if she tries stand-up again, I'll throw myself off the bus."

A soft snort and a deep breath. "Five minutes."

"Thank god." Dean got his head up and glanced at Sam. "Let's smoke the bitch."

The bus lurched violently, air brakes hissing, right as Sam got back up on his knees. Thrown on one side, he'd almost recovered when the bus suddenly straightened and accelerated down the shoulder, flinging gravel in a cloud behind them. Sam was sliding on his stomach helplessly toward the roof edge, long fingers grasping for a hold, his fingertips squeaking on the roof as he tried to create enough friction to stop.

"_NO!"_ Dean released the air intake and lunged after him, his legs swinging toward the rear of the bus. He got one bloody hand around Sam's wrist as his brother's hips went over the edge, long legs dangling over the middle lane of the highway, the other hand locked tight around another projection of metal on the roof. "Fuck, Sam! Are you _trying_ to kill us?"

Sam threw his other arm up and locked his free hand around Dean's wrist. He was white faced and breathing raggedly but his gaze was steady on something over Dean's shoulder.

"Be... behind you."

Dean cranked his head around. His legs were past the ward on the roof. The gaki slid forward and ran a finger lovingly down his ankle.

The pain was drowning him, wave after wave of searing flame rushing up his leg into his side, his chest, his head. His muscles seized so tightly he thought his entire body would break. He couldn't twitch, couldn't breathe... he thought he felt something in Sam's wrist give as his fingers convulsed around it. Sam might have said something, yelled something, but Dean couldn't hear it over the ringing in his ears. Then his vision went white.

* * *

TBC


	4. The good news is the bus didn't explode

We have reached the end. A sincere thank you to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and fav'd this story. A special late thanks to Rog457 who suggested the title for chapter three in a review. I apparently forgot the review, but remembered the title. It was perfect. Thanks!

As always my thanks to Merisha, for the lightning fast betas. All remaining errors are my own.

I had a lot of fun writing this. The final two chapters were written on the fly and to a deadline—which was a new, exciting, and terrifying experience for me. I don't think I'm going to repeat it.

Extra big thanks with a bow on top to Nana56 who purchased this fic at Kazcon last year. Patience, thy name is Nana56. She reminded me last night that there was STILL no hurry! Love you, hon.

* * *

Judy shrieked, "Stop the bus!" right into Carol's ear. Carol barely missed a car heading for an exit ramp, corrected and kept barreling down the shoulder of the freeway.0

"What? What's going on?"

"The driver… it's the driver, he's hanging…" the rest was lost in the general chorus of screams from the rest of the passengers. "He's off the bus!"

"Oh, God, no! Sam!" Carol's stomach dropped. She looked frantically in the rear view mirrors, expecting to see a body rolling, broken, behind them. She saw nothing… "Where is he? Judy, where is he?"

Judy pointed with an unsteady hand. "He's hanging off the roof!"

Carol peered in the left hand mirror again, sighing in relief when she saw two long legs in the driver's gray uniform bumping against the bus. Turning her head to the right, she considered her best friend. Panting, white as a sheet, Judy looked like she might faint.

Carol shook her arm harshly. "Judy! Judy, you listen to me right now. Pull it together. Get those women to stop screaming and _help him!_ Push his legs up, pull him in, something! You hear me? Don't let him fall!"

Judy nodded. Took a deep breath. Turned toward the passengers. Her head up, shoulders and back straight, she clasped her hands behind her back, filled her lungs, and bellowed. "TEN HUT!"

The bus fell almost eerily silent. Carol slapped the steering wheel in glee. "You tell 'em, Judy! You weren't a drill sergeant for nothing!"

Judy smiled tightly before glaring ferociously at the cowed women in front of her. "Listen up!" Pointing with military precision, she called out, "You, you, and you three. Get back there! Climb on the seats and get all the windows near him OPEN. The rest of you, shut up and sit down. Now!" She glanced around. "What are you waiting for?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

* * *

Half on, half off the bus, Sam couldn't do more than shout in frustration as the gaki tormented brother. "You bitch. Leave him alone! Dean!" All he could do was watch as his brother's eyes rolled back in his head and his back arched in pain. Dean's fingers, already tight around Sam's left wrist, got impossibly tighter. And tighter. "Dean, stop!" Sam felt something snap and gasped in pain.

If that wasn't enough, someone was grabbing at his legs. Thinking it was the police again, he kicked out, and kicked again, only stopping when a head of gray hair appeared over the lip of the roof. Steely eyes caught his.

"We're helping you—hold still!" Grinning, the woman dropped down out of sight.

Hands grabbed his legs and started to push him toward the roof. He levered himself up a few inches, and felt those same hands bending his knees until they rested on something hard. The windows… he was kneeling in a window. Almost shouting in relief, he looked back at his brother. Dean wasn't going to be able to help him—his eyes were half open but Sam didn't think he was conscious. He reached up, using his free hand to clutch the sleeve of Dean's jacket and carefully pulled himself up, until first one first one foot and then the other were resting on the metal frame below him. Dean didn't move, maybe he couldn't move. Sam's wrist was still locked excruciatingly tight in one hand, the other hand in a death grip on the projection on the roof that had kept them both from becoming road kill.

Sam straightened slowly, moving his hand from Dean's elbow to his shoulder. With a final heave, he swung his legs onto the roof and rolled all the way on, just in time to see the gaki brush Dean's ankle again, eliciting a strangled scream from his otherwise motionless brother.

He roared, "Get away from him!" Lashing out with one leg, he caught the gaki in the ribs hard enough to shove it to the far side of the bus. Sam scrambled to his knees and maneuvered Dean's legs past the sigil before he took the time to look for her. When she caught his eye, she licked her fingers one by one, mouth open in a pointed tooth smile.

His attention was roughly pulled back to his brother when he heard and felt Dean taking a halting breath. "Dean? Hey, can you hear me?" No reply, but Sam could see the contortion of muscles start to lessen, and he was able to free his left wrist from Dean's relaxing fingers. Inspecting it quickly, Sam huffed out a laugh. His watch. Dean had crushed it, not his wrist.

Hell. The time. Spooked, Sam hurriedly wiped the face of Dean's watch clear of blood. Almost sunset. Rolling Dean gently onto his back, Sam rifled through his jacket pockets, long fingers searching for the ritual ingredients Dean had taken before he climbed on the roof.

Extracting a couple of overstuffed sandwich bags and a school sized carton of milk, Sam placed each item carefully between them. Frowning, he tried hard not to look too closely at Dean's blood soaked clothes or bandages. There wasn't anything he could do about them on top of the bus, but still… Setting his jaw, he kept searching for the written ritual itself. Sam checked the pockets of Dean's jeans, only finding the folded pages he needed after he'd rocked Dean gently to one side and reached into his right rear pocket.

Dean's hand hitting his knee startled him so badly he jumped. Sam bent over quickly, putting his mouth to Dean's ear. "Hey, bro."

"Wha's goin'… where?" Dean rolled his head, looking around them with unfocused eyes. "Is she… Sam, y'okay?"

"Yeah. It's time to do the ritual. Do you… do you want to do it?"

* * *

_Did he want to do what?_

It was loud. He was shaking. He brought a tentative hand up and pinched his nostrils. His nose hair hurt. Everything did. A tremor started in his foot, rapping his heel against the… ground? Metal. He sucked in a breath, stifling a groan.

Sam's voice floated in and out, his giant hands pulling at him. All he wanted to do was sleep for a week, but Sam's arm, solid and hard behind him, slowly helped him sit upright. The movement compressed the knife wound and that groan Dean couldn't suppress. There were black spots in his vision before things went sparkly. When he came to, Dean couldn't do much more than blink. At least, he was lying down again, on his good side, facing the back of the bus.

"Dean. Do you want to do the ritual? Finish the hunt?"

"Nah." He yawned. "Just wanna lie here."

A breathy chuckle in his ear. "Thought so." Dean felt his hand being wrapped around the familiar air vent cover.

"Hey. Stuff happened."

The next time he opened his eyes, Sam's back was to him. His brother was sitting cross-legged at the sigil, facing the gaki. He'd started the ritual. Dean got snatches of the words as Sam's voice rose and fell, most of the ritual chant lost in the rush of wind and noise, but the monster clearly heard it. She was focused on Sam with an unnerving intensity. Sam seemed unconcerned, but his shoulders were stiff as he dipped a hand in one of the baggies and dropped pinches of dried herbs over the sigil.

As Sam offered each new ingredient to the wind, the gaki moved closer, right up to the sigil and still strained forward. Sam poured milk in a thin stream onto the roof, his voice almost loud enough now for Dean to make out. The monster bent down and lapped as the flow of milk reached her. She caught the flower petals Sam carefully released, rubbing them over her face and next, down her arms, finally pushing them into her mouth, a look of rapture on her face.

The gaki was _blurry_. Dean rubbed his eyes, scrubbing a hand over his face, and tried to refocus. It looked different. Black hair streamed out behind her now, her eyes were round, teeth blunt. She looked almost human. Sam completed the ritual with a shout, flinging a cloud of herbs and flowers directly into the woman's face.

She looked at them from human eyes, smiling, laughing. "I'm free. Thank you. Thank you. I am no longer cursed." Her smile lit up her eyes. "Tell my parents. Tell them I no longer live in this twilight of despair. My father is Tensin Gyaltso. Poughkeepsie. My name was Mary. Tell them."

Sam was shaking his arm. He didn't remember going to sleep. Prying one eye open he watched as the gaki started to dissolve, streamers of insubstantial matter peeling off and dissipating in the wind, a look of transcendent joy on her face. "What?"

"Something's happening"

The translucent image he'd seen before stuttered, flickering in front of them. Searing light poured from her eyes and mouth. She was transfigured, pale skin burning away from her face, exposing bone and corruption. She vanished in a burst of flame, a howl of agony the last part of her to disappear.

Sam touched his shoulder. "That shouldn't have happened. She should have been released."

"Punishment? She killed a lot of people."

"Maybe. Maybe she'd been here long enough to start believing in hell."

"We waited to do this," Dean stopped for a jaw cracking yawn, "this... ritual to appease her, right?"

"Yeah, but we didn't know."

"Should'a…"

Sam leaned in close. "We should've what?"

"Should'a ganked her in the goddamn bus." Another yawn stole his attention, and sleep stole everything else.

* * *

Carol thought she was going to jump out of her skin. She couldn't concentrate on the road and jumped when a shout from a passenger startled her. The ladies in the bus were—rollicking. They kept rehashing everything that had happened in loud excited voices, but none of them seemed to care what was happening on top of the bus!

No one had fallen off though. Judy swore that over and over. She and her recruits were keeping a close eye out the back, in between flipping the bird at the police shadowing the bus, taking swigs from a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream Sherry donated by an overwhelmed passenger, and singing _"We Shall Overcome"._

_God, she missed the 60's sometimes. _

Most of the cars had dropped back or been stopped, allowing the police closer to the bus, but rush hour traffic was still in full force. So far, the police had only tried once to box her in, falling back after just a few moments. And the tires… they must have been made of steel or something. The police shot at them a couple of times, eliciting nothing more than howls of derision from her tipsy crew in the back.

The rest stop exit was in view. _Finally. _She eased off the gas and began gently braking, trying to make everything as smooth as she could for Sam and Dean. The police surrounded the bus and this time she followed their lead and brought the bus to a final stop in front of the rest area building.

The police were pounding on the doors before she could get the vehicle in Park and toggle the door open. When she did, cops swarmed up the stairs and dragged her bodily off the bus. The rest of the passengers streamed out in their wake, most of them blithely disregarding the "Stay in your seats" instructions from the police. Most of them ran for the bathrooms, but others clustered around Carol or Judy and her coterie clustered by the front door of the bus.

A policeman was asking her questions, but her eyes were locked on the crowd of people on top of the bus. It wasn't until EMTs appeared, lugging a stretcher, that she started to feel sick. She wasn't an idiot. She knew Dean wasn't going to hop off the bus, and smile that smile of his. He'd been stabbed, bled, fought a _monster_. But she hadn't thought, she hadn't thought he wouldn't _survive_. What if he'd died up there with the gaki?

Police started to climb off the roof until only Sam and the EMTs were left. He was arguing with them, arms out, but finally turned and lowered himself easily to the ground, dropping the final foot or two with little effort. He was still looking up at the roof so she kept her eyes trained there too. The EMTs were hunched over, doing things to the still figure on the stretcher… she darted around the officer trying to question her and ran to Sam's side, putting a hand tentatively on his arm.

"Sam? Is he… was he… is he alright?"

Sam looked down, briefly. "Yeah. He will be. He lost a lot of blood, and the gaki…"

"Oh my God. She didn't do something to his bones?"

He placed a hand on her shoulder, attention back on the roof. "No. But she hurt him pretty badly. He passed out a few minutes ago." Sam took a stride forward, reaching up with several policemen to catch and support the stretcher as it was lowered off the bus, all of them juggling IV bags and wires trailing here and there. The EMTs climbed down and jogged with the stretcher to the ambulance, Sam right next to them all the way.

_It was over. _

She took a deep breath. One person had died, but she knew deep in her heart that it could have been a lot more if Sam and Dean hadn't arrived when they did. Would have been a lot more if the Gaki had gotten away. She put a hand to her cheek, surprised to find it wet. She was crying. Turning abruptly, she almost went nose first into an officer's chest.

"Ma'am, I need to ask you some questions."

She dashed the tears from her eyes. "Fine, fine. I just need to sit down. Call Allan." Looking up at the cop's face, she said, "Maybe my lawyer. But first, I have to use the bathroom." She stumbled when she tried to walk, and was absurdly pleased to have the policeman, who was probably raring to throw her in a dark cell somewhere, offer an arm and steady her all the way to the rest rooms.

"I'll be right here when you come out, Ma'am."

She grimaced. Of course he would be.

* * *

Sam hated hospitals. He was pacing. Eight steps from Dean's bed to the hallway, one step to turn, eight steps back. Look at Dean, one step to turn…

"You're making me seasick. Will you hold still?"

His brother was pale, worn out, and even though Dean tried to hide it, his hands were shaking. But he'd received two units of blood, IV fluids, stitches, painkillers, and antibiotics. He'd also slept peacefully for six hours while Sam had dealt with the police, the hospital, fake health insurance, and paced.

"Not that I'm complaining but why aren't your bones mush?"

An hour into consciousness and Dean was lucid, but maybe not firing on all cylinders. "Huh?"

"Your bones, man. Why didn't she eat them?"

"Think she tried. Couldn't. Or didn't want to. Only ate women's bones. Older women. Said they were better." His mouth turned down. "Said they were crunchier."

Sam almost gagged. "That's disgusting."

"You tellin' me?"

"I, uh, had Bobby check out her family."

"Why'd you bother him? We could have looked it up. Visited the family."

"I know, but I couldn't get to a computer. I couldn't get anywhere. The cops wouldn't let me out of their sight."

"Are we in trouble?"

"I'm not a suspect or anything." At Dean's raised eyebrows, he filled in, "Neither are you. All we did was climb on the roof after a murderer. They want to question us though."

Dean pulled the blanket off his legs. "Let's go then. Give me my clothes."

"We'll be fine. And we need to wait for our ride."

"Our what?"

Sam ignored him. "So Bobby looked up her father. Wasn't hard. There aren't that many Gyaltso's in New York." Sam stuck his head out the door for a second. The coast was still clear.

"Did Bobby talk to him?"

"He couldn't. Tensin Gyaltso died twenty years ago at the age of ninety-five, a few months after his wife passed away. Their daughter, Mary, died in 1951. There are some cousins alive but no one remembers Mary."

"Fifty-one? How'd she stay off the hunting radar so long?" He coughed and pressed a hand on his side. "Any idea why she fixated on women's bones?"

Sam shook his head. "She worked in an old folk's home for years. She might have killed someone. Maybe she stayed on, you know, after, and fed there. I can research it more later?" Dean shook his head. Sam paced toward the door. "The fire at the end was…"

"_Raiders of the Lost Ark_. That scene when the Nazis try to use the ark, and there are those flying women that turn fugly." Dean smiled through a yawn. "Right?"

"I was going to say unexpected but yeah, it absolutely was _Raiders._" He heard someone in the hall and poked his head out. "Hey. We're in here." Ushering in their visitors, he introduced them. "Dean, you remember Carol. This is her grand nephew Allan. They're going to drive us back to Woodbury to pick up the car."

"Great. Thanks." Dean nodded and smiled and raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Sam. Before he could say anything, Carol stepped up to the bed and hugged Dean tight. "I'm so glad to see you alive. Oh, awake, I mean, awake."

He snorted. "I like you seeing me alive too."

Allan stepped up and would have hugged Dean too. Sam didn't hide his smile at the scowl Dean focused on the him. Allan put out his hand instead. "Nice to meet you."

"We have a car downstairs." Carol leaned forward conspiratorially. "Sam is going to smuggle you out."

Dean caught his eye again, the look so patently long suffering that Sam couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"But first," she handed each of them a bag, "take these." Sam pulled a pair of jeans out of his bag, Dean found a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. "Dean, your clothes were ruined. Sam, Allan insisted you couldn't be allowed to wear those uniform pants any longer. Go ahead and put them on. We'll meet you downstairs."

Allan grinned. "I can stay here and make sure they fit."

Carol laughed and tugged his arm. "Come on, Romeo."

"Carol, wait." Dean gestured to her. "Are you in trouble?"

Allen laughed. "She's going to be on _Wildest Police Chases_!"

She cuffed Allan lightly on the shoulder. "I'll be fine. Everyone on the bus told the police a different story. It's chaos right now." She looked at Sam when he snorted. "And no, I didn't put them up to it. They were excited and wanted to protect us. So they did. The police may never figure it out.'

Sam pressed. "Did they charge you?"

"Traffic citations, a couple of misdemeanor charges. Nothing my lawyer can't handle with one arm tied behind his back. I'm already out on bail. He'll help you two. And don't worry about money."

"We can't ask you to do that…"

"My lawyer is my brother, Allan's grandfather. Every family has a black sheep, right? She smiled and herded Allan to the door. "Now hurry up."

Sam helped Dean sit up and held out his new tee shirt. Seeing Dean's bemused expression, he waved a hand in front of his eyes. "You heard her, Dean. Hurry up."

Dean squinted up at him. "Shut up and change your pants. Hurts me to look at 'em. And the black socks are crap. They don't help at all."

"You jerk."

"Don't worry though." Dean's head popped through the shirt collar and he pushed his arms gingerly through the sleeves. "I'll let you and Allen sit in the back seat and have some alone time."

"You fucking jerk." Sam tossed the uniform pants in the trash, and helped steady his brother as he stepped into his jeans.

"Man, these are tight in the ass." Dean twisted slightly to check out the back of his jeans in a mirror.

"Mine aren't." He turned to demonstrate, tenting the fabric away from his thighs. "Maybe Allan really wants alone time with you." Sam grabbed Dean's waistband, pulled back, and dropped Dean into a wheelchair. "Now, let's get out of here and back to the Impala."

Dean gestured grandly toward the hall. "Make it so."

* * *

Thanks for reading. Please review!


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